If We Were a Movie
by AmberZ10
Summary: Pamela Isley is a serious actress.
1. Chapter 1

"Would you call taking this role a change of direction in your career?"

Pam gave a small smile, but pursed her lips slightly before answering. "I don't think any one role is important enough to change a career's entire trajectory. But I'm enjoying myself here. It's a nice break."

"So you consider this role easier than your others?"

Chuckling, Pam said, "It's certainly different."

The reporter smiled back at her. _This is fun, we're having fun._ "I'm sure you're expecting this next question…"

 _Don't roll your eyes_. "Yes, I think I know where this is headed—,"

"You and Bruce Wayne have been looking pretty cozy lately. Is there something going on there, or is it just my wishful thinking?"

 _Lady, you don't know me._ After a short giggle ( _that one's for my publicist_ ) she smiled coyly and said, in her best teasing, cutesy voice, that "A lady never tells."

/

"Where the fuck is Isley?" Selina demanded—to the whole set.

Bruce shrugged from where he was boredly scrolling through his Instagram feed. "Thought she had press this morning."

"Well, unless it's Katie-fucking-Couric that's wondering who she's sleeping with, she should have been back here an hour ago," Selina complained. "Every second she wastes is $1000 of our budget down the toilet."

"This whole project is a waste of money," Jared spoke up, still standing on his mark despite the hour delay. "Just another corporate—,"

"For the love of God, Jared, take your used condoms and your rats and shove them down your unresearched-communist throat."

Selina was…feeling a bit impatient. Bruce chuckled mutely at her response, still not bothering to look up.

That's when Pam decided to return to the studio, pushing open both of the double doors to make her grand re-entrance.

"Ah, so glad you decided to join us, Ms. Isley," Selina reacted sardonically. "If that was anyone less than the NY Times, you're fired."

"It was Buzzfeed," Pam retorted. "And Warner Brothers can't afford to fire me. I give this production clout."

Rolling her eyes rather than taking the bait, Selina motioned to the makeup team and they swarmed as Pam sat. "We'll start from Isley's monologue."

"You're going to have to be more specific," Pam intoned from somewhere within the gaggle of makeup artists. "This bitch loves to hear herself talk."

"You love to hear yourself talk," Selina countered, watching the cameras reset. "That's why you're perfect."

Again, Bruce snickered.

"And you're appropriately vapid," Selina told him. "Congratulations. Now let's wrap this goddamn movie."

Her touch-ups completed to satisfaction, Pamela stood, taking her coat off to reveal the leafy leotard that she thought looked absolutely ridiculous. "The press thinks we're fucking," she told Bruce.

He shrugged, pulling his cowl on as he walked to join her on their marks. "Suppose I could hypothetically do worse." A crew member rushed forward to wrap him in vines.

"You certainly couldn't do better," Pam assured him.

"Alright!" Selina shouted. "Let's get this show on the road. Quiet on set. Rolling…and…action!"

Pam started her slow walk around him, swaying her hips with some exaggeration and trailing her finger over his chest and shoulders. She clicked her tongue. "Batman…you should have known better than to enter my lair unarmed."

"I'm—never unarmed—Poison Ivy," Bruce gritted through clenched teeth, pretending to fight against his restraints.

"Mmm…I can see that…" Pam let her hand trail down between his legs where she gave a quick, menacingly teasing squeeze. _I hate myself_. "But playtime will have to wait. First, I'll bring Gotham City to its knees, then we can negotiate your… _position_."

"You flatter yourself," Bruce spat.

"Oh, Batsy, why must you make this so difficult? I—OK, fuck this. Are we in a porn parody of a movie we haven't even made yet?"

Selina groaned when she broke character. "Goddamn it, Pam! We all want to go home. Let's just get through this."

"I'm a serious actress, Selina!"

"And you're getting a serious paycheck for this one! We all are. So suck it up and say your line. Take it from 'you flatter yourself', Bruce. Rolling…and…action!"

"You flatter yourself," Bruce delivered the line with absolutely no augmentation. Not that there was much room to go with a three-word line.

"Oh, Batsy, why must you make this so difficult? I have Gotham City under my green thumb, and soon, I'll have you too."

Jared feigned betrayal beside her. "I promised you The Bat, but you said Gotham was mine!"

"Yes…well…" Pam smiled slyly. "Plans change." She turned and thrust her hand forward. It looked pretty stupid pre-CGI, but they were spending enough money on that shit that Pam trusted the vine thrust wouldn't be the thing to make her look stupid.

Jared reacted like he'd been wrapped up in a vine, and was dragged to the ground by invisible forces. "You witch!" he screeched.

"Suck it, prick."

"That's not the line, Pamela."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm looking at the script right now."

"Jesus, she knows that," Selina assured the line producer, pinching her nose. "We're still rolling. Let's go."

"It's a woman's nature to scheme," Pam said, getting back on track. "And a man's to fall for it, like the empty-headed Neanderthal he is." She laughed evilly.

"That's not the—,"

"Close enough," Selina cut the line producer off.

While "Ivy" was distracted, "Batman" reached for his batarang and used the sharp edge to cut the vines restraining him away.

"My babies!" Pam screamed dramatically.

That's when she was supposed to lean to the right to dodge the batarang Bruce was throwing at her. But she leaned into it instead, and the metal bounced off her shoulder. "Oww!"

"Shit, are you OK?" Bruce looked worried.

"Remind me why the FUCK we're using practical effects for this?!" Pam demanded, holding her shoulder.

"If you'd remembered your blocking, this wouldn't be a problem." Selina shot back. "Cut! Get the stunt coordinator out here. We'll practice and go again."

Pam grinned internally, making sure not to show her delight. She rubbed her shoulder some more for good measure, then quickly flipped her hair.

"Are you OK?"

The redhead turned at the sound of a female voice, feigning embarrassment, convincing her cheeks to flush. "Yeah, I just…forgot the blocking. Sorry, Harley. I guess I'm not much of an action star."

"Wha—of course you are!" Harley seemed personally offended. "Pamela." She took Pam's hands. "You put so much effort into this…"

Bruce rolled his eyes, taking off his cowl. "I'll leave you guys to it."

They ignored him as he stalked away.

"You're sweet," Pam pretended to try and hide her smile.

"It's true!" Harley assured. "This is an easy one, I promise. Don't get too much in your head."

"Show me…" Pam's response came out a bit throatier than she'd intended.

Harley nodded like it was her job (it was her job) and said, "Go ahead and get on your mark."

Pam backed up until she found it, pretending like this was all very important (it wasn't).

"Bruce is going to throw it at your outside shoulder for the camera, so you're going to move inward. Don't twist too much, remember?" Harley instructed. "Selina wants it to look effortless."

"Right, so…this way?" Pamela purposefully twisted the wrong way. She could hear Selina groaning somewhere in the background.

"No, um…" Harley approached her, placing her hands on Pam's shoulders. "This way."

Pam allowed herself to be moved, wishing that Harley's hand would slip just a little lower….

"That way."

"Yeah," Harley smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. "That's it. Easy as pie."

"You done?" Selina shouted, interrupting what Pam hoped Harley understood as 'fuck me' eye contact. "Good," she said before she got an answer. "Then let's go again. Bruce!"

The man sighed as he stood, pulling his cowl back into position and returning to his mark. Jared had never left his.

Harley gave Pam's shoulders a reassuring squeeze and then moved to stand behind Selina, giving Pam a thumbs up once she arrived.

 _Is she straight? Or just…stupid? Or is that her way of flirting back? Maybe I'm not being obvious enough…_

"Action!"

Pam was pulled from her thoughts when Bruce's batarang, again, glanced off her shoulder. "Fuck!"

"I called action!"

"Goddamn it, Selina, I'm an Oscar nominee!"

"Yeah, well, I'm an Oscar winner. So let me know when you join me. Let's go again."


	2. Chapter 2

"Is it just me, or does this feel like the longest shoot of our lives?"

"It's not just you," Selina admitted, downing the rest of her smoked bourbon, the smell of which made Pam gag. "I honestly think this movie might kill me."

"Well…your career, maybe…" Pamela modified, earning a venomous glare from her colleague. "Oh, come now," she chuckled, nodding at the bartender for another round. "I'm fucking with you. The Great Selina Kyle will survive. Though, when I'm nominated for a Golden Raspberry, I'm dragging you to that ceremony with me."

Selina allowed herself a smirk and lifted her newly filled glass for a toast. "To…the need for income, and the stupid shit we do to earn it."

"To income," Pam laughed, clinking their glasses together. But instead of drinking, she then slowly lowered it to the counter, her attention suddenly focused somewhere over Selina's shoulder.

Curious, Selina turned to find their stunt coordinator had just entered the bar. "I guess I'll need to call an Uber tonight," she sighed. Pam was supposed to be her designated driver, but Selina had known the redhead long enough to recognize the look she currently had in her eye. The nearly predatory, 'I'm gonna let her top me' look.

"Oh, stop," Pam said, distractedly, without removing her eyes from her target. "You think I'm such a slut."

"You are a slut, Isley."

"Yes," the redhead agreed, plastering on a wide, happy smile and waving the blonde over. "But a careful one. Harley!" she raised her voice. "Harley, over here!"

Harley's eyes scanned the bar for a moment before they landed on Pam and Selina where they sat. She immediately broke into a smile much broader and more genuine than Pam's, and quickly weaved her way over. "Hi! I didn't know you guys liked this place!"

"We don't," Selina mumbled into her drink. "Pam said she found a new one she thought I'd like."

"What a coincidence!" Harley was absolutely floored. "I've been coming here since I moved to LA! Small world, I guess."

"Mmm…" Selina drank nearly half of her whiskey in one go, glaring over the brim of her glass at Pam (who didn't seem to register her displeasure). "Coincidence. Yeah."

"Did you guys just get absolutely mobbed by paparazzi?" Harley wondered, plopping down on the stool next to Pam.

"No, no," Pam assured her as she reached into her purse, producing the sunglasses and ballcap she'd worn on the walk from the car. "I always come prepared."

"Incognito," Harley grinned. "Smart." Then she turned to lean over the bar. "Hey, could I get a beer? Corona, please."

Selina couldn't stop herself from laughing at that. It was September. Who orders a Corona in September? Scratch that, who orders a Corona at all?

The brunette received an elbow from Pam in response, so she gritted her teeth and said: "Yeah, Pam is pretty smart. Really smart, actually. She graduated Yale school of drama."

Harley's blue eyes (somehow) grew bigger. "No way! Aint that, like, Ivy League?"

"It is, but…" Pam modestly waved her off. "I don't like to make a big deal out of it."

 _Yes she does_ , Selina thought, _being her friend is exhausting as a result_.

Harley shook her head, still grinning as she grabbed her Corona off the counter and paid the bartender up front ( _who does that?_ ). "I can't believe Selina Kyle and Pamela Isley are in my bar. That's…I mean…it's crazy enough to get to work with you guys, drinking with you, though?" she whistled. "Crazy."

"Well, there will be plenty of drinks at the wrap party," Pam told her. "You're coming to that, right?"

"Yeah, of course! I can't wait!" Harley assured them. "When is it?"

"Tomorrow night," Pam answered quickly. "I'll text you the address. Here, put your number in my phone."

Selina had to grip the lip of the bar to stop from rolling her eyes. _We haven't set a date for the wrap party yet._

Harley was happily obliging the redhead, programming her number into Pamela's phone. "I'm gonna be sad when it's all over, though…" she admitted. "I know we've still got a few days of shooting left, but this is the most fun I've ever had working on a movie. You guys are so talented and inspiring…I'm gonna miss seeing you every day. And being directed by a woman," Harley laughed. "I'm worried it's a once in a lifetime experience."

A smile tugged at the corner of Selina's mouth. "You're the only female stunt coordinator I've ever worked with, and my favorite one so far."

"Really?"

"I'll tell you what," Selina leaned forward. "If I ever do action again, you're the first person I'll call."

Harley just blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Of course." _God, this girl's energy is contagious_. "And I'm sure Pam's interested in seeing you in all sorts of positions in the future."

Pam choked on her skinny mojito.

…Harley didn't seem to understand the innuendo.

"Well, we've got an early call time tomorrow," Selina stood, laying more cash than was necessary on the bar. "We should probably get going."

Pam nodded, rising from her stool as well. "We'll see you bright and early tomorrow. And then at the party. It's a bit formal, so wear something nice."

"Oh, yeah, got'cha." Harley nodded like she'd just received some very important information. "What time should I be there?"

Pam squinted thoughtfully. "Let's say 7."

Harley seemed (understandably) a bit confused by that answer. "Is that when the party starts?"

"Mhm," Pam's response was fairly noncommittal as she put her disguise back on. "Have a good night."

Selina waited until they'd left the bar to speak again. "Why don't you just ask her out on a real date, you coward?"

"Because I'm too old to get shut down by a straight girl." Pam led the way to her ugly-as-shit electric BMW. "And nothing about Harley gives me a straight answer." She unlocked it so they could climb inside. "I mean, short nails, casual plaid, and shoulders broader than my future all tell me she'd fuck me against a wall if I so much as breathed on her."

"But…?"

"But I have breathed on her and I remain unfucked, so…"

"Have you considered that…maybe, she's gay and just…not into you?" Selina asked.

Pam laughed out loud. "No."

"Fine, well…" Selina buckled her seatbelt. "Tricking her into attending a party that doesn't exist seems like a solid foundation for a relationship."

Pam scoffed, starting the engine. "I'm a very famous actress, Selina. Worst case scenario, a straight girl from—I don't know, New Jersey?—gets to have a private dinner with a celebrity."

"And best case?" Selina wondered.

"I get an orgasm that makes my eventual Golden Raspberry worth it."


	3. Chapter 3

Harley tried to drink her coffee black like all the people she'd decided were more important than her.

But after two sips, she gave in and dumped her customary 1/4th cup of sugar and half carton of cream into the steaming liquid, just trying to make it bearable. Out of all the caffeine delivery methods, coffee was by far her least favorite, but Hollywood sets thrived on it, so to fit in, she thought she should too.

She was halfway done with her first cup when Jared emerged from his trailer. Harley was star struck meeting just about everyone who got to stand in front of the camera, but for some reason, Jared sorta creeped her out.

Maybe it was because he was a method actor or whatever and insisted on staying in character 24/7. Maybe she would like the real Jared a lot better. Or…maybe he was just a creep. His eyes were definitely too close together, that was for sure. Harley didn't know what they had to do with his creepiness, but—anyway, she was getting off track.

"Morning," Harley greeted, a pleasant as ever. "Ready to run through your blocking?"

"My blocking…" he got that weird gleam in his eye and sort of…slithered forward. "Are you sweet talkin' me?"

Harley blinked. "What?"

"Ha ha ha…"

 _God, I can't believe Selina hasn't made him work on that._ "So…is that a yes?"

He clapped in her face. "Anything for you, dollface. The fire in my loins, the itch in my crotch, the one, the only, the infamous Harley Quinn!"

"Uh…no, it's Quinzel. Harley QuinZEL. You forgot the zel."

"No, it's like—," he faltered in his act just a bit. "Nevermind! If you have to explain the joke, it's not funny!" Then he halfway stormed, halfway skipped off to the soundstage.

 _So no blocking then. Cool._

 _"_ Hey."

Harley nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand landed on her shoulder.

Pamela looked apologetic at first, but then realization seemed to dawn on her. "Oh, were you just talking to Jared?"

"Yeah, I—I'm sorry, he just—,"

"He's creepy, yes." Pam confirmed what Harley had been unable to say out loud. "And we all hate him, don't worry."

Well shit…now Harley felt a little bad…

"No, Harley," Pam laughed, and this conversation was beginning to creep Harley out too because it was like Pam was reading her thoughts. "I'm not just being an asshole, he sexually harassed one of the extras in that strip club scene two months back."

Harley's eyes grew impossibly wider. "He did _what_?"

"Yeah…" Pam confirmed with a slow nod of her head, like she couldn't figure out why this was taking Harley so long to put together. "Woodrue wouldn't let Selina fire him, but he's a creep and also just generally the worst."

That was the term Harley had been searching for. _The worst!_ "God, he really is!"

Pam laughed again, that warm, smooth laugh that weirdly made Harley feel, like…confident? And…included? In what, she wasn't sure, but she was almost positive a movie star wanted to be her friend and that was the best feeling in the world.

"I got a new shirt for tonight!" Harley suddenly found herself blurting out. "I hope it's nice enough."

"Fun." Pam giggled like she'd made a joke.

Harley hadn't, but she was always happy to make Pam laugh. She got the impression that she didn't laugh for a lot of people. On set she seemed so…prickly. The alpha dog. In command. That's why Harley thought it was so weird that Pam and Selina were actually such good friends. Watching them on set, you would never guess it. They were so similar and vain and…loud.

Well, ok, Selina was loud, and a little vain. Pam was vain and a little loud. But—

"Harley?" Pam was asking, watching her expectantly.

The blonde stared dumbly for a moment, trying to bring herself back down to earth. "Huh?"

Pam laughed again, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Coffee must not have kicked in yet, huh?" she sounded sympathetic. "I asked if you'd eaten already."

"Oh, uh…No. You?" _Way to go, loser._

"Are you…hungry?" the redhead ventured.

Harley just nodded. "Are you?"

Pam held up the green smoothie in her hand. "I'm covered, but I thought maybe we could sit down and you could talk me through my blocking again. Over…breakfast, maybe. Well, your breakfast, again, I'm—,"

"Covered. Smoothie. Right." Harley grinned. "Yeah, sure. Cafeteria work?"

It wasn't really a cafeteria, more a tent with some tables and chairs and catered snacks, but Harley sometimes forgot she wasn't still in high school, so she called it a cafeteria.

Pam led the way, opening the flap door of the tent and holding it for Harley who ducked inside.

It always cracked Harley up how many carbs the catering company provided, even though no one on set ate them. Except for Harley and her stunt team. And some of the crew, she guessed. But anyway, she snatched a bagel and a yogurt and a croissant and was just turning around to make what would probably be a stupid joke to Pam when she heard—

"Isley!"

Bruce Wayne had shouted at her from a table across the room, and from the expression on Pam's face, Harley was pretty sure he'd be a pile of smoking ash by the time she made it over there.

He flinched, but still said, "Run lines with me."

"No."

"Run lines with me…Honey."

Pam's green eyes narrowed to angry slits, but like she'd been possessed, when she turned to Harley, her expression was as upbeat as it'd been before they'd entered the tent. "I'm so sorry, I'll have to take a raincheck on breakfast. A vital portion of an actress' job is elevating the performances of her costars."

"Oh, right, of course," Harley tried not to sound disappointed. "Raincheck. I'll still see you tonight, anyway."

"Right." There looked to be something approaching relief in Pam's smile. "Tonight." Then she left Harley behind for Bruce, aggressively yanking the empty chair away from his table and turning it around to sit on it backwards.

Harley took her food and sat next to her stunt team, who had been watching the exchange with great interest.

"I can't believe she's that into you," Roxy said, immediately confusing Harley.

"Who?"

"Jessica Rabbit, dumbass." Mary answered like it was a stupid question.

"W—you mean—you mean Pam?" Harley almost laughed. "Into who?"

"You!" Mary sounded legitimately angry this time.

"Oh, don't be so cranky," Roxy pinched her cheeks. "Just drink your bottle, baby. If you made a stinky I'll change if after you eat your breakfast like a big girl."

"I'm a dwarf, not an infant, you asshole," Mary spat. "And the next stupid joke you make is gonna get you fired. HR already knows you're heightist."

Harley frowned, even though this really wasn't any of her business. "Is that a thing?"

"Yes it is, Harleen, you simple-minded giant."

"Anyway…" Roxy had evidently deemed ignoring Mary altogether the best way to avoid getting reported. "Pam Isley wants to fuck you, Harl."

Harley guffawed. "Pam Isley is a movie star."

"OK…" Roxy tried again. "Pam Isley, movie star, wants to fuck you. Better?"

"She does not."

"She does," Waylon agreed with Roxy as he lumbered in, his arms nearly overflowing with food. Mary immediately sprung up from her chair, offering it to him, but he just chuckled. "No, no, little lady, you've got a big scene today. Waylon can stand."

Harley still didn't totally know why he occasionally spoke in the third person, but ah well. Mary was blushing but Harley didn't have time to put two and two together because they all needed to get back to her thing, as it was clearly far more pressing.

"The only person Pam Isley's interested in sleeping with is her boyfriend Bruce Wayne." She nodded over towards the table the couple was sitting at.

Roxy literally laughed out loud. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're my boss."

Alright, so now Harley was starting to feel a bit offended.

"Harleen…" Roxy sat forward and took her hand. "Harleen, my sweet, naïve, buff, bisexual barbie doll. Pam Isley likes pussy as much as Ellen Degeneres does, and together, I can guarantee you they've seen a combined ZERO dicks."

Obviously, Roxy's balcony jump stunt yesterday had knocked a screw loose in her head. "You're crazy," Harley told her. "Look at her, Roxy. Does she look like a lesbian to you?"

The whole table looked…to see Pam subtly rocking back and forth on the chair she was still sitting backwards on.

"…yeah." They all agreed.

"Harleen," Mary took over. "Straight women don't sit like that."

"OK, whatever." Harley was ready to change the subject. "Are you guys going to the wrap party tonight?"

Roxy took a sip of her orange juice. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Tonight, the wr—you know what? Forget it." Harley stood, pushing herself away from the table rather dramatically. "I hope you're ready today, Mary. Selina only wants to do three takes."

"Now who's cranky…" Mary tried to inconspicuously jerk her head in Harley's direction.

….

It wasn't inconspicuous.

"You guys are on thin ice."

"Wait." Waylon was clearly confused. "Who does Harley think is not a lesbian?"

Mary jerked her head even less inconspicuously in Pamela's direction.

"No…Harley, yes she is." Waylon's delivery was so earnest it caught Harley a little off-guard. "And Bruce Wayne is not her boyfriend, he's sleeping with the director. But the redhead—I used to be a bouncer at Riddle Me This—,"

"A gay bar," Roxy clarified.

Waylon nodded. "And she was there every night."

Roxy raised a dark eyebrow. "Every night?"

"Every—,"

"OK! OK!" At this point, Harley just wanted this nonsense to stop. "So maybe she's gay. Newsflash, that doesn't mean she's into me."

"…Harley…"

"Oh my god go to work!"

..."Wait, Bruce Wayne is sleeping with _who_?"


	4. Chapter 4

"I'll get you, my pretty! And your little dog too!"

"PAM!"

"What?"

"Say your fucking line!"

"I feel like I captured the essence."

"You didn't."

"Well, that's your opinion."

"Say your line or I will sell your secret to People Magazine."

"Ooh," Jared came alive at that. "What's your poison, Pammy?"

"Your band sucked."

"We're still rolling!" Selina rather forcefully reminded them. "And I never had to deal with these kinds of shenanigans on the set of The Painful Metal Box."

"You didn't put a single woman in that movie," Pam observed.

"Right, and it won me an Oscar."

"I don't think that's a coincidence."

"Me neither. Action!"

Pam sighed, turning back to Bruce and fluffing her hair to get back into character. "My kiss is laced with poison, Batman. By my count, you have about 20 seconds before you're completely under my control."

"You—underestimate me—Ivy," he gritted. _Why was he always gritting?_

"On the contrary, Batsy…" Pam swayed closer. "You and Joker have overestimated yourselves."

Jared's smile melted off his face. "What do you mean?"

Pam smirked. "I mean that kiss we shared wasn't inspired by my lust for you, but rather my lust for power. You were under my control the entire time, but much too stupid to notice. And now, I'm the most powerful being in the universe, that is…I would be…if your cock bulges weren't so distracting."

"That's not the—,"

"OH MY GOD SHE KNOWS." Selina was about to punch the line producer. Poor Carrie. Just trying to do her job. "Why are you like this, Pam?!"

"That's basically where the scene is headed, isn't it?!" Pam yelled back.

"Yes, but it's PG-13, so don't be gross."

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you!"

"You're about to fuck me," Bruce pointed out.

"I'm about to kill you, is what I'm about to do," Pam countered.

Bruce laughed. "Wouldn't _that_ be empowering."

"Guys!" Selina yelled over them. "Finish this scene and we can wrap for the day. Please."

Again, Pam sighed, considering burying her face in her hands before she remembered it would ruin her 2-hour makeup job.

"But Ivy," Bruce picked up the scene where they'd left off. " _Our_ kiss…that _was_ inspired by my lust for you."

Pam pretended to falter, relaxing her domineering body language. "You lie."

"I never lie," Bruce disagreed. "It's part of my Bat-oath. And believe me when I say, it's not the chemicals that make me want you."

Pam forced herself to choke up. "You want…me?"

"Desperately."

"Oh, Batman, I—I can't bare the sight of you suffering, even if it's by my own hand." The vines were then supposed to drop off of him, and Pam ran towards him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him passionately. "Oh, Batman, I just wanted a man to love me, that's why I was acting out."

"I know." He stroked her hair…then snuck his hands into hers and cuffed her.

Pam played shock big enough for the audience to feel the slap in the face. "You're—you're taking me into custody?"

"You're a beautiful woman, Ivy. But you're also a criminal, and I bring criminals to justice." He tightened his bat-cuffs around her wrists.

"But-but-but-but-but—,"

"Too many 'buts', Pam," Selina interrupted.

"But—you should still be under my control!"

Bruce shook his head. "The second kiss is the antidote."

Pam dropped character. "Wait, why don't I know that? They're my powers. Why does he know more about my powers than I do?"

"Because you're horny," Selina poorly explained. "Who cares. We're almost done."

"I'm so stupid," Pam got back into character.

"No," Bruce stroked her face. "You're simply a woman in love."

"And…cut!" Selina clapped for them. "That was legitimately terrible. Good job, guys. We're done for the day, I'll see you all tomorrow."

/

Harley showed up in her new shirt at 6:56.

She knew it was cool to be fashionably late in Hollywood, but she'd been so excited that 4 minutes early was the most restraint she could muster.

The bar looked a little divey, in Harley's opinion, but then again, every other wrap party she'd attended had mostly been an excuse for the cast and crew to get drunk together, so Harley guessed the ambiance didn't really matter all that much.

Pam already had a table when Harley walked through the door. Fashionable, but not late.

The redhead noticed her immediately, and the smile that spread her red lips looked both happy and relieved.

"Hey," Harley greeted, though a wave of self-conscious awkwardness quickly washed over her when Pam stood, giving Harley an unimpeded view of her dress.

It was tight and a very pretty shade of green and it didn't do a great job of containing her breasts and now Harley was staring and probably sweating. _Nice_.

"Are—ha." Harley swallowed, regrouping and then trying again. "Are you the only one here?"

"So far." Pam leaned in for a lingering hug.

 _She's just a hugger. A long, chesty hugger who smells amazing. She doesn't want to fuck you, Harley. She's a movie star._

"You want a drink?" Pam asked after (finally) separating.

"No, I think…water's fine." Harley had no idea why she'd just said that, but…she guessed she was drinking water tonight.

"Oh, come on," Pam pushed. "We're celebrating!"

 _Shit, she's right._ "I guess we are. You happy it's almost over?"

"No, no, not that." Pam laughed. "I mean, we can celebrate the almost-wrap too, I guess, but I was talking about my new role."

Harley was intrigued. "What is it?"

Pam grinned. "Marilyn."

"…Manson?"

"Monroe!" Pam laughed harder. "And Marilyn means at least another nomination. Like, at a minimum. Maybe even a win, if I can get Woodrue to actually campaign for me this time."

Harley was confused, and she hoped she didn't sound too dumb when she said: "But you haven't even filmed it yet."

"Oh, these things are all political, Harl."

 _Harl._

Harley did end up drinking, not much, but enough to relax and pass the time while they waited for the others.

…the others that never showed up.

By 7:30, Pam had officially arrived at peeved. She cursed her cellphone when Selina wouldn't text her back.

"That bitch," she said. "Selina must have told me the wrong night on purpose."

Harley was certain she would never understand Selina personally. "Would she really do that?"

"She's a terrible person, Harley."

"But your friend anyway…?"

"My very best friend."

 _I…I don't understand…_

"God, this is so embarrassing." Pam was shaking her head. "And we're both so overdressed."

Harley looked down at the new shirt she'd ironed and everything.

Then Pam seemed to have an idea, because she stood rather abruptly and sounded firm and decisive when she said, "Let's go somewhere else. Somewhere that deserves us. Somewhere we can sit down and actually have a meal."

"Like…together?"

"Well, of course!" Pam put her hands on her hips. "You're not going to make me eat alone, are you?"

"N—no, never!" Harley scrambled to her feet. _Never? Really?_

"Good." Pam bit her lip, watching Harley without moving.

 _Why are we…oh!_ Harley grabbed Pam's jacket from where it was laying on the booth and draped it around the redhead's shoulders. If Harley was forced to describe Pam's expression in that moment, she'd say it was "half-lidded".

Maybe she'd had a few drinks before Harley had shown up or maybe she… _Oh my God, maybe she does want to sleep with me._

Pam mentioned something about a restaurant at the end of the block as she led Harley out of the bar, but the blonde wasn't really listening.

 _She's just being friendly, don't let Roxy get in your head!_

"Do you like French food?"

 _That sounds ROMANTIC!_

 _Get a hold of yourself, Harleen! Rich people eat French food all the time!_

"Uh…I like their fries."

Pam laughed, playfully nudging her shoulder. "You're so funny."

Harley basically left her body at that point, and next thing she knew they were sitting down at a table, looking at menus Harley couldn't read.

"Mmm…everything looks good, it's so hard to choose…" Pam was saying.

"Right. Yeah." Harley thought maybe she could fake it til she made it.

…but she didn't make it.

"You don't speak French, do you."

"No." Harley exhaled. "None at all. Do you?"

"I'm fluent, actually." Pam's smile was proud. "J'espère que tu me feras crier ton nom avec mes mains tordues dans les draps avant la fin de la nuit."

Harley was absolutely awe-struck. "What does that mean?"

"Mmm…I'm not sure this is the most appropriate setting for that." She smirked into her menu.

 _Did…did Pamela Isley, movie star, just proposition me in French?_

"Excuse me for one moment." Harley placed the napkin from her lap back on the table, hoping her voice wasn't shaking. "I'll be right back. Just need to use the lavatory—the loo—the—ff—wizz palace."

Pam blinked.

"Be right back." Harley walked calmly away until she was sure she was out of sight, then she more-or-less ran to the restroom, locking herself inside and bracing against the door.

"What the FUCK?!" she whisper-yelled. "Don't panic. You're fine. You're OK. You're on a date with a movie star and just said 'wizz palace', but you know what? That's not the dumbest thing you've ever said. Far from it, actually."

Harley took a deep, centering breath. Then pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed the only number she could think to in this situation.

 _"Yeah?"_ Roxy answered after a couple of rings.

"I THINK PAM ISLEY WANTS TO FUCK ME."

 _"Oh, it's just my boss. Cool."_ Roxy sounded tired. _"What's happening? Where are you? And stop yelling."_

"I LOCKED MYSELF IN THE BATHROOM AT A FRENCH RESTAURANT WHERE I'M HAVING DINNER WITH MOVIE STAR PAM ISLEY."

 _"You're actually talking louder than you were before."_

"Sorry," Harley forced out a whisper.

 _"You're fine."_ There was some crunching by the phone that told Harley Roxy was eating. _"So she asked you out?"_

"Sorta. I don't—do you speak French?"

 _"No."_

"Shit."

 _"Was she speaking French to you?"_

"Yes!"

 _"That's gay, Harley."_

"I know!"

 _"So what's the problem here?"_

"I don't—,"

"Harley?" there was a knock at the door, and Pam's voice was on the other side. "Harl, are you OK in there?"

Roxy scoffed into the phone. " _Harl?_ "

Harley covered the microphone and leaned into the door. "Yeah, Pam, I'll be right out, so sorry."

"No problem. Did you want me to order for you?"

"Sure, yeah," Harley croaked. She closed her eyes, listening to Pam's footsteps retreat.

 _"Hey, Harley."_

The blonde pulled her hand away from the phone. "Yes?"

 _"Have some wine,"_ Roxy told her. _"Relax. She's into you, I promise. Get a little buzz, be yourself, and tear up that pussy."_

"How do I—,"

Roxy had already hung up.

Harley slinked back to the table after thoroughly checking her reflection in the mirror. She was presentable, that was a start.

Pam smiled at her as she returned, and it was when Harley sat down that she noticed the full glass of wine waiting for her on the table. The redhead saw her focus shift.

"It's a 1992—,"

Harley grabbed it and chugged. "Wow. Yeah, that's—fuck, that's wine."

Pam opened her mouth to say something, but was either too puzzled or stunned to actually come out with it, so she just quietly took a sip herself. When she'd swallowed, she asked: "Are you sure you're OK?"

"I am…just gonna drink the rest of this," was Harley's answer.

And drink it she did.

…

…

…

"And that's when I realized _Genie in a Bottle_ was about consent." Harley dug in for another bite. "Are there snails in this?" She looked up to see Pam just watching her. Silently. Her food untouched.

Maybe she'd loosened up a bit too much.

"I never, um…" Pam cleared her throat, finally taking a bite. "I never put that much thought into Christina Aguilera's self-titled 1999 album."

 _Oh my god you're blowing it._

"But yes," Pam continued. "If one were to really—,"

"Can we go back to your place?"


	5. 5

Harley groaned immediately after trying to open her eyes. Everything was very bright and she already had a headache.

She was laying in a bed, that was obvious. But this one was much larger and softer than what she was used to, which she thought was weird…

Until she was finally able to fully open her eyes and found herself in a cavernous bedroom with windows for walls and a stunning ocean view.

Even severely hungover and disoriented, Harley didn't need to think long or hard about whose house this was. Whose bedroom. Whose bed.

Oh my fuck I'm sleeping next to Pam Isley.

…except she wasn't.

After her insane realization that she was sharing a bed with a movie star, Harley scurried up to a sitting position. However, when she glanced around, she found the bed was otherwise empty.

The sheets were rumpled, though, so Pam had, in all likelihood, been there at some point. And if she'd been sleeping there, they'd probably…

"Holy shit, I had sex with Pam Isley," Harley said aloud to an empty room.

But had she, though? Had she really? She couldn't remember anything. Like…at all. None of it. And even if you're drunk off your ass, don't you remember sleeping with Pam Isley? Even just a little bit?

Harley felt weird about exploring the house without first talking to Pam, but she was also in desperate need of ibuprofen, and headaches had a way of overwriting the sparing manners she'd been taught.

She stood on shaky legs, convincing herself not to give into her nausea and keel over right there. But that was only her first problem. See, for some reason, Harley thought she'd exit the master bedroom and enter into a house as easy to navigate as her own.

That was not the case. There wasn't a hallway that led either to the kitchen or the living room. Instead, there were stairs and a hallway that lead to more bedrooms and some sort of a breakfast nook that was obviously a long way from the kitchen. Harley sure had a bone to pick with this architect.

Using her intuition, Harley chose the stairs, descending them as quickly as she could with the hunched body position she had to maintain. The handrail was helpful.

The stairs opened up into a grand…what's the word?...atrium!There was the front door, so yeah, atrium. The floor was all darkly stained wood—cherry wood?It was all very pretty and tasteful, but again, Harley needed some relief for the building pressure in her head.

She turned right, following her gut, and stumbled through what seemed like a dining room.

And! There was the kitchen. She could see it!

It was open to the dining room, a bar really the only thing dividing the two. There was stone on the wall, and the appliances were all stainless steel and the counters were a pretty, almost sparkling gran—ibuprofen, Harley.

She was so close, and yet! …so distracted by the art on the wall.

And by art, Harley meant the gigantic portrait depicting Pamela Isley's profile that hung opposite the table.

She was in costume for some movie…Harley was blanking on the name, but she remembered watching that scene and thinking 'she has a gorgeous profile'.

…Seemed Pam agreed.

"It's from Null Dusk Cardinal."

When Harley jumped in surprise, it sent another wave of nausea through her. But also, Pam really needed to stop reading her mind.

The blonde turned to find Pam standing in an open doorway wearing what looked to be yoga clothes, another green smoothie in hand. Her red hair was pulled up into a loose bun, one that was slightly slicked at the sides from sweat. She wasn't wearing any makeup—Harley hadn't ever seen that in person before. She was still very pretty—gorgeous—but she now possessed a beauty Harley felt like she could touch. She looked so…altogether…human.

"Selina gave it to me." Pam was nodding up at the portrait, crossing the room in bare feet to stand beside Harley and admire it. "We thought I was going to win that year."

Oh, right, there was a thing with that."You got upset."

Pam swallowed the sip of her smoothie she'd taken from the straw. "Selina didn't even get nominated for directing it." Then she changed the subject, rather abruptly, Harley thought. "I'm glad you've made yourself at home."

Harley didn't totally catch her meaning until she followed Pam's eyes…and noticed, for the first time that morning, that she wasn't wearing any pants. Or underwear. Harley was completely naked from the waist down and just now realizing it.

Pam bit her lip, not looking away, and Harley could tell there was not a single pure thought in that head.

"I—I have a headache," Harley admitted.

That seemed to break the spell. "Yeah, I thought you might," she chuckled. "Nauseous too, I presume."

"How did you—,"

"You were miles passed tipsy last night, Harl," Pam answered, heading towards the kitchen. "I can help with that."

Harley followed, awkwardly tugging at the hem of her once ironed shirt, trying to cover up.

Pam noticed. "No need for modesty, Darling." She got on her tip toes to reach for what Harley assumed was the medicine cabinet. "I can assure you I'm quite familiar with all of your…assets."

Harley was beet red at this point. "So we…did we…"

"One of us orgasmed," Pam answered, sliding a bottle of ibuprofen across the counter, which Harley took as her cue to sit down.

The blonde popped the top of the bottle, emptying four pills into her hand. "From your tone, I take it it wasn't you."

"So perceptive." Pam flashed a grin over her shoulder as she reassembled the blender that was lying in pieces on a dish mat. "You'll have other opportunities to satisfy me," she assured her. "But first, lets cure that hangover."

Harley watched as the redhead blended a smoothie together for her, one that she would never dream of drinking if Pam weren't making it for her. Harley didn't do green, really. She tried, but vegetables were disgusting. And vegetables with fruit and…coconut milk? Sounded even worse. But Pam's ass looked awesome in those yoga pants and Harley wasn't wearing any pants at all, so her mind was miles away from the contents of her smoothie.

"Here you go." Pam offered her a full cup with a smile. "Drink it. You'll feel better."

God, Harley was just so embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," she blurted out. "I usually don't drink and I—I got so nervous and obviously overdid it and I bet you think I suck at sex now, so you probably never want to—,"

"Harleen," Pam stopped her.

Harleen.

"I was kidding about the orgasm thing," she continued. "You could barely make it up my stairs last night. I'm not in the business of taking advantage of women, especially ones that I care about."

"You—you care about me?"

Pam smirked, coming around the bar to lean against it. "I do. I've been shamelessly flirting with you since the first table read. I'm sorry it took us this long to actually connect."

"And I was so drunk." Harley buried her face in her hands.

"No, Harley, it—OK." Pam stopped to admit. "Yes. You were. But I understand. For all the jokes I make about my own star power or narcissism, I can sometimes forget that a date with me isn't just a date."

Harley took her first sip of smoothie to distract herself from Pam's earnest eye contact. "So we…didn't sleep together," she mumbled. "Like…sexually."

"No," Pam answered, reaching out to fondly twirl a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "But we did cuddle."

"So then…" Harley's face flushed again. "Why am I not wearing any pants?"

"That's not a question I can answer, I'm afraid," Pam laughed. "I tried to tuck you into bed, you took your pants off…which makes you an awful tease, by the way."

Harley giggled. "I'm sorry…"

"I expect you to make it up to me," Pam told her, playfully trailing her finger down Harley's cheek and over her collar bone. "Tonight, perhaps. Back here, after we wrap. I'll make youdinner."

"Like…salad?"

"No, like, I'll put some lingerie on."

"Oh."


	6. Chapter 6

"B—Batman?" Pam scrambled to her feet, playing disbelief as obviously as she could. "You—you came back for me?"

"Not exactly, Sunflower," Bruce admitted…before briefly dropping his machismo. "Do I really have to call her that?"

"Is it in the script?" Selina questioned.

"Yes."

"Then there's your answer. We're still rolling."

"It just seems—,"

"Degrading?" Pam ventured.

"Yeah, that," Bruce agreed.

Selina sighed. "We're not making this movie for the betterment of humanity, Bruce. We're making it because we signed our names on the dotted line."

Pam rested her head against the metal bars of her sound-stage cell in dejection.

Bruce tugged on his bat ears like they were uncomfortable, then reset himself. "Not exactly, Sunflower. See, justice never sleeps. Not on crime, and not with you."

Pam dropped her gaze like she'd just been dumped, slumping her shoulders.

"But chin up, Kiddo—,"

"I'm older than him," Pam pointed out.

"No one cares," Selina reminded her.

"But chin up, Kiddo." Bruce placed his finger below her chin, raising her head until their eyes met. "We'll always have Paris."

Pam shoved his hand away, exasperated. "That's literally plagiarism and makes zero sense for the movie! No part of this film was set in Paris!"

"Pammy." Selina crossed one leg over the other in her chair. "Do me a favor and look down."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Pam obeyed. "What am I looking for? All I see is my tits."

"Mhm, and that's all the audience will see too. Finish it."

The redhead blinked (real) tears from her eyes, raising her head once more to look at Bruce.

"We'll always have Paris," he repeated.

She allowed a tear to roll down her cheek before grabbing him through the bars and pulling him in for a kiss.

"And…that's…a…wrap!" Selina got up and applauded louder than ever. "Pam, you really didn't need to give it all that, but I appreciate the commitment."

"No." Pam wiped the tear from her cheek. "I'm actually depressed. This is the worst film I've ever worked on."

"Tell me about it," Bruce grumbled, pulling his cowl off for the last time.

"I know," Selina acknowledged, stepping up to join them on the soundstage. She then turned to address the rest of the cast and crew. "Thank you all so much for fulfilling your contracts. Now, a fair warning; We're all going to be made fun of very soon and I refuse to answer for any of this. To the men, congratulations on the advancement of your careers. Mazel. And to the women…we're all sinking on this ship together. And that, my friends, is the true meaning of female solidarity. We live briefly, we die quickly, and we fade into obscurity as a unit." She did the Hunger Games whistle. "Peace."

"Whoop whoop!" Harley cheered from the back of the room.

"Jesus fuckin Christ," Selina mumbled.

/

Harley was shaking her head. "I can't believe how talented you are. Like, I know basically every actor can make themselves cry, but to see it on camera today, man," she whistled. "It's a thing of beauty."

"Well, I appreciate that," Pam tried not to laugh as she took another spoonful of vegan ice cream from the carton they were sharing. "I'll take you to see a play some time. That's real talent."

Harley was surprised. "You don't think movie actors are as good as stage actors?"

Pam shrugged. "I think stage acting is more rewarding, certainly. It's inspiring to see people reacting to your performance in real time. But no, movies can absolutely have that same effect on people. Just not…a movie like _that_."

"Like what?"

"That big budget, big studio nonsense." Pam stood, handing Harley the carton. "I'll be right back."

Harley frowned, thinking on that. She liked those sorts of movies. Liked working on them, especially. All the best stunts were in big budget films. A superhero movie was a stunt coordinator's dream, and she'd just lived hers.

As Pam's absence stretched, Harley's eyes wandered to the ice cream in her hand. It was really very good. "Are you sure this is vegan?" she asked, loud enough that she was sure Pam could hear her in the other room.

"Yes," Pam called back. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just…" Harley was examining the ingredients now. "I really like it, and vegan food usually tastes like, uh…ass."

Pam laughed from what as perhaps the bathroom. "Have you ever tried it?"

"What? Vegan ice cream?"

"No." Pam's voice was closer now.

Confused, Harley looked up to find Pam standing before her…in the lingerie she'd promised. Somehow, it was even better than advertised. "Holy shit," Harley whispered.

Pam smirked, trailing her long fingers absently over her own thigh. "I find the pleasantness of the experience has a lot to do with whose you're eating."

Harley tried to look at her face to discern what the heck she was talking about, but her eyes just wouldn't let her. Instead, they seemed dead set on the— "Ti—your—boobs."—in front of her.

After examining them for herself, Pam raised an eyebrow at Harley. "What about them?"

"You—uh—have them."

"Yes, I do."

"They're goo—they're big."

"They are."

Harley's mouth was completely dry and her thoughts were nowhere near coherent. "I want to…can I please…"

"Honey…" Pam reached behind her back, undoing the clasps on her clearly rather expensive bra. "You can do anything you want to them." She allowed Harley only a brief look at her naked upper body before turning around and smiling playfully over her shoulder. "Come upstairs when you're ready."

She was wearing heels, Harley only noticed that because of the sound they made as Pam walked away from her.

 _Oh, she meant ass. She was wondering if I'd eaten ass before._

That realization finally landed.

Pam was all the way upstairs before everything finally sunk in. Panicking, Harley looked frantically for a place to set the ice cream. _Where does ice cream go where does ice cream go where does ice cream go OH MY GOD THE FREEZER, YOU DUMBASS._

Hurriedly, Harley scrambled to her feet, crossing the kitchen at a near run and shoving the ice cream into the freezer. When she closed it, Harley got a good look at herself in the stainless steel of the fridge's door. It wasn't a super clear image, but it was obvious she was blushing her ass off.

"Stop. Freaking. Out." Her jaw was clenched almost painfully, and she poked her reflection with an assertive pointer finger. "Eat her pussy like you know how to do, Quinzel. It's the only useful thing you learned in college."

"Um, Harley?"

The blonde whirled around to see Pam's head leaning down over the banister.

"At the risk of sounding needy, I'm reaching a nearly alarming level of horny."

"Yep, gotcha, roger that." Harley kicked her ass in gear, literally sprinting to join Pam upstairs.


End file.
